Waltz
by lefcadio
Summary: In which Mercédès has a ball, and Albert teaches Franz to dance.


In the eyes of Paris, Monsieur de Morcerf was a strong man; he was not only a noble Count, but the General, too. Fearless, peerless, and indomitable. Thus, to those around him - proletariat and bourgeoisie alike - he did not seem to be the kind of man who would succumb to fits of sentimentality. But however correct the general populace might usually have been in this assumption, when it came to his family, Fernand was really just like any other man.

Currently, he was fondly watching his wife conversing politely with Madame Danglars - and although the lovely Mercédès was outwardly giving every appearance of interest and enjoyment, Fernand could tell that, for the moment, she was merely endeavouring to be a good hostess. He could see it in the stiff line of her wrist as she held her wine glass; in the way she laughed and smiled. It had been Mercédès who was the one determined to put on this ball - she insisted that they had not entertained in far too long, and that it would simply be bad manners to avoid it any longer. 'Think of your career', she had said with a soft smile, 'you know how important social occasions like this can be.' 

Glancing around the hall, Morcerf could easily see that Mercédès had outdone herself - aristocrats from all over Paris milled around, laughing and chatting; a string quartet played _Saint-Saëns_ impeccably; servants weaved in and out of the crowds, providing drinks wherever they were required. The large hall, though, was a masterpiece in itself - Mercédès had decided to embrace the autumn season which was rapidly approaching outside, and had decked out the walls, mantelpieces and windows in seasonal leaves, flowers, fruits and branches. The room seemed permeated with a warm bronze glow, giving a naturally pleasant atmosphere. 

A while ago, the opposite half of the hall had begun to clear, as the guests had decided to make way for the dancing; currently, through the gracefully moving couples, Morcerf could see his son and future daughter-in-law. He knew that Albert enjoyed dancing, but both he and Eugénie looked utterly bored; cheeks close so that neither had to look at the other. Albert appeared lost in thought, and both young aristocrats moved automatically, without energy or spark. As soon as the piece came to an end, Albert bowed and Eugénie curtsied, and they quickly departed in opposite directions. Morcerf sighed at this display of - not exactly _coldness_, but simple apathy. He noticed how his son hurried back to the d'Epinay boy who was standing near the doors which led out into the garden; Albert seemed to speak quickly for a moment with a pained expression, before they both burst out laughing, d'Epinay giving Albert a small smile and then handing him a drink. Morcerf simply shook his head, and decided to go and rescue Mercédès from Madame Danglars.

* * *

It has to be said that Albert was entirely unamused about the whole situation. Both he and Eugénie knew that convention - and simple manners - required them to dance with one another, but neither had any particular desire to. Sometimes, when Albert actually thought about the situation, he felt a little saddened; to him, it seemed likely that had their parents not arranged this marriage, he, Franz and Eugénie would all still be the best of friends, doing everything together. As it was, these days any conversation he held with Eugénie felt a little stilted and somewhat awkward - Albert knew she and Franz still met up for chats, but he simply did not feel as comfortable with his fiancée as he did with Franz, and so spent most of his time with the latter. 

One hand rested loosely on Eugénie's side, and his feet moved mechanically, without him even needing to think. She matched his steps perfectly, but Albert found himself being distracted by the blonde strands of her hair tickling his nose. He was fighting the urge to sneeze when he noticed Franz grinning at him from the side, cheerily raising his glass to his friends. Albert raised an eyebrow and cast the other boy a look of desperation, but Franz pretended not to understand and casually stood sipping from his glass. At long last, the music came to an end, and they finally drew apart: Albert smiled blankly and bowed, while Eugénie merely looked bored and gazed at the floor while she curtsied. 

They parted ways, and Albert left the area as fast as was possible without being considered rude. He found Franz next to the large garden doors and shook his head sadly at the blond boy, mouth twisted into a slight grimace. 

"Franz, how is it that I have to go through _that_, and all you can do is stand around and drink aperitifs?" Franz simply laughed, and he looked so happy that Albert couldn't help but join him. 

"Don't worry, I got you some too," Franz said teasingly, his eyes bright, and he handed Albert a small glass of kir. 

Albert peered at it for a moment, before tossing it back without hesitation. He paused for a moment and considered his empty glass, "they really don't give you enough of this stuff, don't you think?" Franz just shook his head with a smile and sipped his own far more sedately, while Albert called over a servant for some more. 

"...and could you put in some more crème de cassis this time? Yeah, that's fine," Albert said, satisfied this time with his slightly more purple drink. "You know," he said casually, this time addressing Franz again, "I do believe that Eugénie dislikes dancing with me almost as much as I do with her. It's stupid, don't you think? In fact, it pretty much sums up our relationship these days." Albert sighed and took another gulp of his sweet drink, while Franz's smile had slipped, and he was gazing sadly at his friend. 

"It's a shame," he said quietly, "you used to get on so well together." 

Albert smiled a little ruefully and shrugged, "I suppose so. I guess we've all just changed, right? Not that any of that matters to our parents. But what about you and Valentine? Aren't the Villeforts here this evening?" he looked around curiously, and this time it was Franz's turn to sigh. 

"Yes, of course. But I haven't yet...er... run into them this evening." Franz glanced around him guiltily, but Albert's eyes widened and he exclaimed in delight, 

"Aha! You're avoiding them, aren't you!" he poked Franz teasingly and ignored the yelped protest. The young baron looked pained and batted Albert's hand away. 

"Look - it's fine for you, Albert, really - you _know_ how to dance, and you do it beautifully, and you know Eugénie well so it's not even that strange for you - just a chore!" Franz bit his lip and joined Albert in signalling for another drink. 

"Wait, wait, wait, you mean you don't -- hang on, no, I'll just have the champagne this time -- you mean you don't know how to dance?" Franz shifted uncomfortably and looked away from Albert's incredulous stare. 

"Well, I've never really--" he began a little defensively, but was quickly interrupted by his best friend. 

"Franz! Really, you're unbelievable sometimes... how do you expect to dance with Valentine and impress her parents like that?" Albert grinned as Franz started to look more and more uncomfortable. 

"But - well - it's not really something I've ever wanted to _do_," he said despairingly, and so Albert studied him for a moment before grabbing his arm. 

"Come on then," he said cheerfully, and started to tug Franz through the crowds of people surrounding them to the doors which lay a few feet away. The heat of the room had been starting to become quite unpleasant, so Franz refrained from protesting when Albert pushed open the doors and dragged him through, the cool breeze washing over them both in blissful relief. The door swung gently back with a click, and they stood alone out on the large, dark patio which faced onto the Morcerf's impressive garden. At the moment, though, the darkness meant neither could see very far into the inky depths, and so it was just as well that Albert had no plans to take them any further. 

"So what are we doing out here then?" Franz asked, slightly bemused, and took a deep breath of the crisp autumnal night air as he leant back against the cast iron railings. 

Albert gestured theatrically and grinned, "why, I'm going to teach you how to dance, of course!" The other boy merely stared, as though not entirely sure how to respond to this strange announcement. "Look, it's really quite simple - and you want to be able to dance well for Valentine, don't you?" 

"What? No--!" However, Franz's objection was cut off as Albert pulled him closer, taking hold of both of Franz's arms in order to arrange them both. 

"Right, see? Since _you're_ the one learning, you'll have to lead. So - yeah, that hand goes there, and then--" Albert threaded his fingers through Franz's other hand, trying to ignore the almost panicked expression on the other's face. Strains of music had begun to emerge from the house, and Albert smiled. "A waltz! Perfect, this will be easy for you to pick up..."

* * *

This was certainly one thing that Franz had not expected to happen. He felt immensely awkward and self-conscious - not only had he never done this before, but he was pressed closely to Albert's body ("It's the style of the dance!" he'd insisted.), whenever he moved his head he risked brushing their faces together, his heart was beating far too fast, and he feared if he spoke his voice would be unsteady. In all, Franz concluded, he was a mess, and this was a very bad idea. However, it seemed Albert was determined, and would not be dissuaded. Albert was beginning to dance, and forcing Franz to step along with him, explaining as he went. 

"Now, from your perspective, the first thing to do is to start off lowered into your knees, and then go forward with a strong heel lead - so, like this - not quite, but never mind - and then on the second count rise up onto the ball of your foot. Almost - yes, but -- ow! -- don't step on the other person's feet - and then on the third count you lower down from that, and get ready to rise again." Franz frowned, feeling clumsy and out of his depth. It didn't help, either, that he kept getting distracted by Albert's hot breath on his ear... 

"Albert, I don't think that this is such a good idea..." Franz started to pull away, but Albert clutched him close again, looking oddly flushed. Franz gazed at him in surprise, the clear blue of Albert's eyes looking a lot more intense in the darkness. 

"But you're so close..." Albert murmured into his ear, and released Franz with a small smile. "Now, again: move us into position." 

The light emanating from the windows behind them cast heavy shadows across Albert's face, but illuminated his hair like a halo. Franz felt a shiver run up his spine, and tried to remember how he should begin. Albert nodded as Franz took his hand, as a signal to start dancing. 

"You're getting there," Albert commented, and Franz could feel his smile, "but it's still too hesitant, rough: it needs a very smooth rise and fall action... let it come naturally." Franz took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to let the steps come on their on, rather than forcing them out beat by beat. To Franz, this all felt like some strange dream - here, now, he had Albert in his arms, so close that he could feel his heartbeat, his breath. So close that when they moved together, it no longer seemed forced: Franz led them naturally, and he could see the content expression on Albert's face - the soft curve of his lips, and the half-lidded pleasure in his eyes. It was then that Franz truly saw that Albert enjoyed dancing: when he had watched him earlier, Albert had looked as though there were a thousand things he would rather be doing. But at the moment, the fact that Albert looked as though he would rather be nowhere else made Franz's heart ache. 

And so, Franz forgot to be self-conscious, and the two young aristocrats danced on the darkened patio outside, alone and apart from the busy Parisian society inside. 

A few moments later, it suddenly struck Franz that the music had stopped. He came to a halt, and reluctantly started to pull away. Albert, however, seemed to have other ideas; he still grasped Franz's jacket tightly, yet just stood perfectly still with downcast eyes. For a little while, there was absolute silence; Franz's mouth was dry and his stomach felt odd - he had Albert so close, here in front of him, and he was paralysed. Slowly, he raised a trembling hand to Albert's cheek, and softly ran his thumb along the other boy's jaw. His breaths were uneven, and his cheeks were pale - although those of the young viscount's before him were flushed and pink. 

At the slight touch, Albert automatically leaned into Franz's hand and raised his eyes; for the first time that evening, he looked a little scared. Franz swallowed with difficulty, and lowered his hand to rest it upon Albert's neck, where the ends of Albert's soft brown hair brushed his fingers. And, then, they both leaned forward and experienced the most tentative of kisses: one where neither is sure, yet neither is undecided. Franz felt a rush of joy as Albert smiled at him hesitantly, and answered that smile with one of his own. 

However, the moment was fleeting: there was the creaking of the door opening, at which the two boys leapt apart as though scalded. And once more the night was simply cold and dark.

* * *

Morcerf peered out of the doorway and saw his son and the d'Epinay boy - just as he had hoped. He studied them for a moment, wondering why the atmosphere felt so charged and tense - but with more important matters to attend to, he dismissed it from his mind quickly. "Albert, Monsieur Danglars and Mademoiselle Eugénie request your company, and --" he turned to Franz, who was also standing quietly, "Monsieur de Villefort requests your presence, Monsieur d'Epinay." Both boys quickly nodded, and followed the General back into the overbearing heat of the house. Neither dared look at the other. 

And so, Monsieur de Morcerf watched over the rest of the ball with satisfaction; his son conversed easily with Danglars, and Mercédès certainly seemed pleased with his match. Finally, it was time for the last dance of the evening: Fernand felt himself swell with paternal pride as his son led the Danglars daughter out onto the floor; they made a fine pair. The other couple who caught Morcerf's attention was the d'Epinay boy and Villefort's daughter - he had not yet seen them dance together this evening, and it made for a graceful sight, neither of them fumbling a single step. 

And yet, Morcerf mused, none of them really seemed to be _enjoying_ it as they should. 

But one day they'll learn to love it, he thought. One day. 


End file.
